"AH! YOUR BLUSH BETRAYS YOU!"
"All those who journey, soon or late,
Must pass within the garden's gate;
Must kneel alone in darkness there,
And battle with some fierce despair.
All paths that have been, or shall be,
Pass somewhere through Gethsemane."
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Mrs. Winans went with her husband to the capitol next morning, leaving her two daughters preparing for a trip to the dressmaker.
But when the iron-gray horses were champing their bits impatiently in the street, and the coachman waiting on the box, Ethel sent her new maid Laura to ask Precious to come to her dressing-room.
She found her sister lying languidly on a silken divan, scarcely able to speak, and the maid explained:
"Miss Winans had a fainting spell when she was dressing."
"I shall be better after awhile. It is only the over-fatigue of last night. But I could not endure the ordeal of Madame La Mode this morning. You will have to go alone, Precious," murmured Ethel faintly, and she did indeed look ill and weak. Perhaps the treachery she was planning did not come easy.
"Perhaps we can postpone it till to-morrow," Precious answered.
"No, for madame is so very busy, and would be seriously put out if we do not go to her this morning. Besides, she can finish that waist of yours to-day. If you are afraid to go alone in the carriage, take Norah."